


Anyone Wanna Make A Gay Movie?

by LadyDrace



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Actor Hank Anderson, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, First Meetings, Happy Ending, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Intercrural Sex, Light Angst, M/M, POV Hank Anderson, Queer Themes, Rough Sex, Sexual Identity, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:27:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26918845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/pseuds/LadyDrace
Summary: Hank is an actor, always typecast as a villain or asshole.Then he lands a role as the lead in a gay romance drama, and his whole life changes.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 96
Kudos: 262





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to dedicate this fic to all the fine folks on the HankCon discord server, in particular Dean and Charlie, without whom this fic would never have happened. I don't know what kind of black market support-your-friends juice you guys are on, but I LOVE IT! <3 <3 <3
> 
> Not betaed, but I've been over it several times, and if I don't post it now it just won't happen. So here we go!

Hank didn’t start his acting career until his mid-forties.

Some people might call it a midlife crisis. Hank likes to refer to it as the puberty he never had. Leaving home at sixteen to make it on his own, after enduring years of incredibly shitty attempts at parenting, didn’t exactly leave much room for exploring his dreams.

He’d drifted from job to job all through his youth, mostly things like club bouncer or security guard where his height and resting murder face was an advantage, and finally managed to settle down somewhat in construction.

Only after it all went to shit on him again and he lost everything did he stop and wonder if what he’d had was really what he’d wanted.

_Cole. He’d definitely wanted Cole._

But considering his own shitty upbringing, maybe it was all for the best.

In any case, he was forty-four when he quit his job, gathered all his savings, and set off for Hollywood. Or which ever place would hire a middle aged actor with zero experience.

Turned out, however, that his murder face and _whole deal_ was plenty to get him roles as every piece of shit known to man, and in only a few years he’d made a name for himself. A disturbingly typecast name, but a name nonetheless.

But Hank isn’t a villain in real life. Far from it. He’d even considered becoming a cop at one point, if he’d been able to afford the academy.

And after almost ten years of steady acting jobs as everything from rapists to terrorists to alien tentacle monsters, Hank is just sick of it. Not of acting, oh no. Hell, he’s still going to every casting call he can find for roles he finds interesting, but he’s in a place now where he’s doing well enough that he can afford to turn things down.

“No,” he tells Chris. “Fuck off with that shit, I’m done playing monsters.”

  
  
“Oh, come on, man, if you won’t accept any parts, how do you expect me to keep you working?”

“I’ll accept literally any part you give me that isn’t dickwad of the week! I thought you said we could swing this!”

Chris sighs over the phone. “I did, and I still do. But you’re not exactly a Hollywood darling, and you might have to accept a few iffy roles while you wait for the bigger ones.”

  
  
“I said no. Bring me _literally anything else_ , and I’ll take it.”

  
  
“Okay, if you say so,” Chris says, his tone of voice speaking volumes. He clearly doesn’t think Hank has the chops for a career shift, and, frankly, it’s a little insulting coming from a guy who damn near begged Hank to let him be his agent.

He doesn’t blame Chris, really. Hollywood is a tough place, but maybe Hank’s still just naïve enough to believe that he can _be the change_ in some small way.

Whatever, he’s done being the monster. He’s good at it, hell, he’s been nominated for several awards already. But he knows he can do other things, and do them _better_ , and he’s not getting any younger.

“Hank! I got it!” Chris screams in his ear two weeks later. “I got you your goddamn good-guy job! Starring role, small studio, romantic drama, BOOM! Told you I could do it!”

  
  
Hank narrows his eyes as he holds the phone away from his ear a little. “Chris, are you drunk?”

  
  
“Hell yeah I am! I just made your career! And you said you’d do it! You said, and I quote _‘literally anything else’_! And I got that for you! And they’re super psyched to get you, too! Didn’t think they’d get any big names for an indie movie!”

  
  
“I’m hardly a big name, but whatever, could you get to the point, please?”

“Emailed ya. Already promised them you’d do it, so you’d fucking better. I had so much tequila with these guys selling your ass. So much, Hank, seriously-”

“Jeez, fine, drink some water and go the fuck to bed, and I’ll look at it.”

“You’ll take the job, Hank! Don’t break my heart!”

“Go to bed,” Hank orders, and then hangs up with a sinking feeling in his gut. He said he’d do it. But if Chris basically had to win the part in some sort of fucked up drinking game, Hank can barely imagine what the part might be.

It’s…. it’s _amazing_ , is what it is. Hank will have to buy Chris some damn flowers or something, because not only did he get him a part that is in no way a monster, it’s literally a romantic lead. In a _gay romance drama_.

Pretty simple story, all in all. Straight dude in his forties gets divorced and explores who he is, realizes he’s really bisexual or possibly just gay, and has some ups and downs while figuring things out. It has some dark moments, especially involving his family, but it’s only ever drama, not horror. And the ending is hopeful! Almost happy!

Hank feels like he could fly, and immediately sends the producers an enthusiastic reply.

And that’s when he panics, because he’s never played anything romantic ever, gay or otherwise, and he’s never even experimented with his _own_ sexuality, so he’s basically going in blind. But, fuck it, this is his break.

Reminding himself that he’s also never raped or murdered anyone, and still pulled off those parts just fine does help somewhat. But still, this shit matters. Being second goon to the left is a far cry from being a likable regular Joe people are supposed to relate to.

But this is what he wants, and he shows up to the first script read with goddamn _bells on_.

His main co-star is a friendly, balding dude named Jake, who shows everyone pictures of his wife and kids at the smallest provocation, and Hank feels like he proves his goddamn acting chops every time he has to paste on a smile and ignore his own loss in the face of it. Maybe when they get to know each other better he’ll open up about it. But not yet.

Unsurprisingly, a movie like this attracts a lot of queer people, and it’s frankly refreshing compared to the macho atmosphere Hank’s usually exposed to on sets.

The ex-wife only has two lines and thirty seconds of screen time, but Hank still breathes a small sigh of relief that she looks nothing like Joanie.

The first day goes well, everyone seems nice, and also weirdly delighted that Hank in particular signed on.

“We _want_ to flip the script,” one of the writers tell him, their hands dancing around as they gesticulate with excitement. “And what better way than for our leading man to be one of the most popular antagonists on the scene right now?!”

Hank has to concede that’s a good point. He only hopes he can live up to the hype.

The set isn’t as much a set as it is a shitty rented house and a parking lot with tents, but Hank still arrives on the first day of shooting with nerves clawing up his spine. They’re shooting scenes out of order, so today Hank will be playing a man roughly his own age halfway through a sexual discovery phase. Nothing even remotely r-rated, thank god, though there will come a time for that.

He and Jake have already spent some time joking around about it, and while sex scenes aren’t a first for either of them, it’s a first for Hank with a dude, and a first for Jake with full – albeit tasteful – nudity. So interesting times are definitely to come.

But today Jake isn’t even here. Hank’s first scene is an argument with Jake’s on screen best friend, played by a shockingly gorgeous non-binary actor named Jessie, which would be distracting if not for the fact that they’re wearing a Lakers shirt, revealing themselves to have _terrible_ taste in basketball.

They’re jokingly abusing each other about their teams during hair and makeup, when Hank airs his thoughts about something that’s been niggling at him for a while.

“Look, uh, please just punch me if I’m outta line here, but. Why didn’t they cast _you_ as my main squeeze? No offense to Jake, but you could, like… do modeling.”

  
  
“I _do_ ,” Jessie says with a wink that frankly makes Hank feel a little squirmy. “But that’s the whole point. I’m a juxtaposition to the two _man’s men_ leading the show. It’s a bait and switch. They’ll be _expecting_ my twink ass to get it on with a big, burly bear like you. Not Jake, who, bless his soul, could model for Accountants Monthly.”

Hank can’t hold in the laugh, because it’s painfully true. “That’s fair. But I’ll admit the sex scenes would be more fun to watch with you in them. This isn’t me coming onto you,” he hurries to add. “Just, you know. People like to look at nice, younger people, not old saggy asses like mine and Jake’s. Aren’t we shooting ourselves in the foot here a little by basically making soft-core pensioner porn?”

  
  
Jessie gives him a look that makes him feel a little exposed. Like he’s being evaluated somehow.

  
  
“You know what, I got someone I want you to meet.”

“Okay?” Hank says cautiously. He’s already met the whole cast, as well as writers and producers, but every movie set is bustling with people, and there’s just not enough hours in the day to meet and greet them all. He’s hoping he’ll at least say a decent hello to everyone before the movie’s done, but there’s no guarantee.

  
  
“Connor!” Jessie shouts in the direction of the tech tents. “Could you come over here for a minute please?”

A head of immaculately parted brown hair moves closer in the crowd, and when the person finally emerges from the masses, Hank’s goddamn lungs stop working.

Screw Jessie, this Connor guy is the most beautiful person Hank has ever clapped eyes on. And he’s worked with some of the biggest and – according to magazines – hottest stars in Hollywood.

They all pale in comparison to this lithe and smooth man with his neat hair and delicate spatter of freckles across a perfect face, and eyes so deeply brown Hank feels dizzy.

  
  
He distantly hears Jessie let out a smug laugh before greeting Connor as he comes closer.

“Yes?” Conner says. “How can I help you?”

  
  
“Hey, I just wanted you to meet our main man before we go on set. Hank Anderson? Connor Smith. You two should form a band, by the way. Smith and Anderson, soft dad rock for unoffensive occasions.”

  
  
Connor pokes Jessie with a sharp elbow, clearly familiar enough with them to joke around, and Hank just about manages to pick up his slack jaw before Connor turns to greet him.

“Hello,” Connor says, voice somehow soft and husky at the same time. “Nice to meet you. You were great in Absolutes.”

  
  
Hank belatedly realizes that there’s a hand for him to shake, and grabs it with his own a little sharply, desperate to not miss the opportunity.

“Oh, uh. Thanks. Glad you enjoyed it, I guess.”

  
  
Connor lets his hand be shaken, and only slowly pulls back when Hank remembers to let go again. _Jesus_ , his skin is soft. “That movie was terrible, though. I hope this role is a sign your agent is starting to take your career a little more seriously.”

Soft skin, brutally hard truth bombs, holy shit.

“Christ, you don’t hold back, huh?”

Connor shrugs. “Being subtle never seems to work for me. Speaking of which, I’m one of two PA’s on this movie, and if you need anything, just let me know. Don’t be shy. Whatever you need, I can probably make something happen.”

He hands Hank a small laminated card with his name and number on it, and Hank is really quite proud of how he manages to accept it without his hand shaking, because _what the actual fuck is happening right now_.

“I’ll, uh,” Hank clears his throat. “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”

Connor gives him a smile, and then, just to properly murder him, _a goddamn wink,_ before turning away and disappearing back into the crowd.

Hank is left sitting there with his sweaty hand fisted around the plastic card, and Jessie’s cackling in his ear.

“Ohhh, _man_ , this shoot is gonna be _amazing!_ ”


	2. Chapter 2

“Al! Al, wait, pleas- _ow_ , fuck!”

  
  
“CUT!”

Hank stops min-run, and turns back to check on Jake.

“You okay, man?”

“Yeah, crap, just… damn near twisted my ankle again. Can’t we put something over that fucking grate?”

Jake limps off to the nearest chair, muttering about an ice pack, and Hank tries to shake off the headspace he put himself in for the scene, seeing as they’re clearly having a break.

It’s been a brutal day.

They’re in the thick of it now, really getting to the heavy scenes, and while that would be hard enough for a day’s work, everything seems to be against them today. Tech issues, permit problems, unruly extras and just an endless parade of bullshit making it seem like the universe just doesn’t want this scene to happen.

But they’re in a bind, since they only have this specific location for one day. They have to nail it sometime in the next two hours.

And Hank has to pretend to be very upset for take after take.

Not that Jake doesn’t have his work to do, but this scene in particular is what’s gonna make or break Hank as the right choice for this movie.

He leans heavily against the nearest lamp post, watching people bustle around while shooting is paused, and his eyes suddenly catch on that immaculate hair.

“Connor!” he calls out before thinking about it, and Connor stops on a dime, lighting up in a small smile as he changes direction.

“Hello, Hank. Anything you need?”

“Yeah, can someone maybe figure something out with that grate so Jake doesn’t break a foot or anything?”

Connor takes a look where Hank is pointing, makes a quick note on his tablet, and presses a button on his fancy headset. He looks like a tech support hiring poster, and somehow that’s not a negative in any way.

“Hey, Allie, come to set, we need a fix. Alright, see you in five.”

Pressing the button again, he turns those beautiful brown eyes back on Hank, and it knocks the wind out of him, just like it does every goddamn time.

Hank came to this movie feeling zero need to question his preferences. He likes women, and enough of them like him back that he’s never felt like anything was worth investigating. Hell, he never even fooled around with friends as a kid before any notions of identity entered into it.

But one look at Connor, and he’s _fucked_.

He’s not an idiot. Never went to college or anything, but he’s got enough gray matter rattling around. And it didn’t take more than that one, sweaty handshake to open up the whole can of worms of _maybe Hank isn’t straight_.

Jessie clearly worked him out in a second and a half, and one day Hank is gonna ask them how they do that, because it’s both impressive and creepy.

But right now Hank is busy trying to convince Hollywood that he can do romance. And while there’s definitely some heavy irony in him being in a movie about a man having a sexual identity crisis while _being_ a man having a sexual identity crisis, there’s just not time right now to look into it.

Even though Connor seems determined to wreck Hank’s delicate equilibrium every time they meet.

“Anything else I can do you for you?” Connor asks, and okay, Hank hasn’t had a love life per se in the last five years at least, but there’s no way to miss how Connor’s voice goes all soft and suggestive, and Jesus Christ, Hank does _not_ need a boner right now, he’s supposed to be heartbroken.

“You’re fucking shameless, you know that?” he says, and Connor just shrugs, not denying it. God, maybe this movie is gonna have a bigger audience than Hank first assumed if young people these days are into old and flabby.

Hell, when he’d asked if he should get in shape, the producers had vehemently denied, claiming that they want a real person. A flawed, regular person who could be anyone.

So here Hank is. Soft around the middle, saggy in the face, gray haired and still suffering from resting murder face. And yet, Connor seems only too eager to get all up in that. Unless Hank has just gone completely delusional.

He’s definitely gone _some_ kind of way.

“Like I said, subtle never seems to get me anywhere. And I mean it literally, Hank,” he adds, voice more level now. “Anything you need. Coffee?”

“Nah, right now all I need is to dredge up bad memories so I can be upset enough to get this scene in the bag. But thanks anyway.”

Connor gives him a long look, and then stops the whole damn world as he reaches out to put a warm hand on Hank’s shoulder. “You can do this, Hank. You’re an _amazing_ actor. That Best Supporting Actor Emmy last year should have been yours, and if they cheat you out your next award too, then the whole system is just broken.”

Hank doesn’t know what the fuck to say to that, but holy hell, he can definitely squeeze out a tear or two right now.

“How do all you people know just where to push?” he says on a wet laugh, trying really hard to maintain the emotion so he can use it, while also not breaking down like he kinda wants to, now.

Connor squeezes his shoulder. “We don’t. We just all have our issues. And, well, if all you need to get emotional is a little praise, then call me over anytime. I’ve got plenty in store,” he says, and then finally lets go of Hank’s shoulder, just as the director calls them all to set again.

Hank lets them all see his red-rimmed eyes, Jake makes him fall completely to pieces in front of the camera, and they _nail_ the take.

\- - -

“ _Al! Al, please wait, just- wait, stop!”_

_  
  
“Get the hell away from me!”_

“ _No, please just listen,” Paul begs, taking hold of Al’s arm and finally pulling him to stop. “It’s not what you think, I swear it’s not.”_

_Al whirls around, eyes red, face a grimace of hurt. “Oh really? So I didn’t just hear you introduce me as your **friend** in there? After all the bullshit you fed me about how you’re out and proud? Fuck you, Paul, I don’t need another family to inform me I’m going to hell! Been there, done that, got the fucking shitty t-shirt!” _

“ _No, you don’t- Al, please, it was literally just an inside joke. My brother’s gay too, and when he finally came out, I ribbed him about all the **friends** he’s brought home over the years. I swear, we’re all good. Please, I’m sorry, it’s my fault, I should have mentioned it before, I know you- I know it’s been hard for you.”_

_Al hides his face behind a palm and lets out a shaky sigh. “Shit. Shit, I’m sorry, this is on me. I overreacted. It just… it still hurts. It hurts so much, Paul.”_

_Paul moves in slowly, careful not to spook Al. “I know, sweetheart, I know.”_

_  
  
“They told me I’m going to **hell**. They told me-”_

__  
  
“I know.”

_Al falls into Paul’s arms and cries. Paul strokes Al’s back until he quiets. They share a slow and soft kiss before going back inside._


	3. Chapter 3

It’s sex scene day.

In Hank’s experience there’s always a special sort of atmosphere on set around sex scenes, because, no matter how you slice it, it’s intimidating being basically naked in front of a lot of people and cameras.

This time it has a completely different flavor than Hank’s used to, however, because every sex scene he’s done so far has either been a rape scene or at the very least dysfunctional. This time it’s supposed to be a scene of fulfilled love and soft desire, and Hank is honestly excited for it.

Jake is having a harder time of it, because it’s his first _fully visible ass_ shot, and he’s flitting around in his robe and chattering nervously. Hank just sips his coffee, fairly comfortable in his loose shorts, and grateful that the set people at least considered the thermostat, so he doesn’t have to pretend to be amorous in freezing temperatures.

“Kelly wants to watch,” Jake says with a borderline hysterical laugh as he flops into a chair next to Hank.

  
  
“Well damn. Hope I don’t put her off then,” Hank says with a shrug. He’s had his literal cock and balls out on camera several times, the internet is full of his nudes, he’s over it. Usually he’s in better shape than this, but he’s not about to beat himself up about it.

He can’t really put himself in Jake’s shoes, though, as Hank’s been fortunate enough to have never been in a relationship the times he’s been pretending to fuck other people on screen. Having your spouse cheering from the sidelines seems like both a blessing and a curse in some ways.

“No, uh, we’re good. She thinks you’re – and I quote – a silver fox. I’m not sure if I should be jealous or not.”

“I’d go with not, you _work out_ , for fuck’s sake.”

Jake lets out a weak laugh, and then hops off the chair again, clearly ready to pace some more. It’s almost go-time, and Hank can feel the air shift as people start getting moved off the set.

It’s no skin off Hank’s teeth, he’s been naked in front of hundreds of strangers. But not everyone is that comfortable doing pretend-sex in front of an audience, or even being the audience, so as soon as action is called, only strictly necessary crew is allowed on set.

Turns out Connor is one of them.

Hank _would_ be rattled by this, if not for the fact that Connor’s been behaving himself, and not doing any of his usual blatant flirting, which Hank still can’t quite decide if he’s supposed to take seriously or not.

In any case, Connor is keeping busy somewhere out of sight, and Hank is doing his best to be the least difficult cast member on set today.

Kelly plops down in the vacated seat next to Hank, and he smiles at her. She’s nice. He’s met her and the kids a few times, and it only twinges a little bit in his chest that Jake has what he used to want.

“Hey, Hank. You okay with me watching? Figured I’d better ask you too.”

“Sure. I’m flattered.”

  
  
“You should be. _Rawr_ ,” she jokes, and he laughs into his paper cup.

“Down girl, you’re a married woman.”

She smiles a smug smile that says she gets it good on the regular, and Hank is honestly happy for her. And only a little envious.

“Well. No law says I can’t enjoy the view. Especially if the view involves my lawfully wedded husband.”

Hank snorts. “I’m gonna stay way the hell outta that.”

They call him to set, he steps out of his shorts, and the director looks him very deliberately in the eye as they set up the scene. Kelly takes Jake’s robe and smacks him on the ass before going back to her viewing spot, and Hank’s grateful, because it effectively distracts Jake from his nerves a little. He’s supposed to be the one leading Hank, here, they can’t flip the script on this. He needs to get his game face on.

They’d discussed it beforehand, sketched it out, and even done some physical setups wearing not a lot, just to make sure they won’t look too awkward touching each other. Which had been great since they’d literally knocked skulls tilting the same way for a kiss first time they tried to make out. Hilarious, but something not worth wasting shooting time on.

They’d also both been offered dick covers. Hank’s not unfamiliar with them, but he also personally doesn’t care. He’ll wear one as a matter of course if anyone is even the least bit uncomfortable with him letting it all hang out, but no one had seemed bothered by it. Even Jake who’s new to it seems to find it freeing in a way to just lay it all bare.

So here they are, two buck naked dudes about hump on a bed in front of two cameras and about a dozen people.

Not Hank’s kink, that’s for sure, so not much risk of a boner, though he and Jake did also agree what to do should the issue, uh… _arise_.

Considering that Jake’s attractive wife is right there in a decently low cut blouse, Hank fully expects something to happen in that regard, but considering he finds Jake about as attractive as a houseplant, it’s unlikely to cause any real awkwardness.

Unless of course…

Connor leans out slightly from where he’s hiding with some sound people behind a nearby wall, gives Hank a slow once-over and then a hilarious eyebrow waggle.

God, this kid is going to kill Hank, eventually.

Not because of the clear appreciation of the goods on display, though that’s nice too. More because of how he’s young but not _new_. He’s deeply professional and somehow gets along with everyone, and also knows just what to do to strike the right mood.

He could have so very easily caused problems for Hank by making eyes and distracting him. But instead he chooses to be playful and a little ridiculous, and it puts Hank at ease, which is what he needs right now.

And, frankly, that level of competence and empathy is just insanely attractive.

As much as meeting Connor had caused a complete avalanche in Hank’s identity, it might as well have just been that. A realization that maybe he likes to jerk it to dudes sometimes too. Nothing too life-altering.

But even as Connor leaves little doubt what his intentions are, he never lets it get in the way of work, and he never makes Hank uncomfortable or puts him in an awkward situation, and he obviously _cares_ too.

Bottom line, at some point when Hank finds a minute and a half to figure out how he feels about all of these things, there’s a not insignificant chance that he’s gonna end up with a lot more than a new sexual awakening on his hands.

All in all, it’s not a bad day at work. They only need four takes to get the full scene right, and then do some more shots from various angles to fill in any gaps later.

To Hank’s relief, Jake seems to find his footing as soon as they call _action_ , and easily falls into his role as the guiding hand for this scene, and it’s definitely refreshing to Hank not being the one taking charge. Jake has a lot more years of acting experience behind him, but he’s suffered similar problems with typecasting. Mostly as boring office nerd, but he’s gotten some other things on his resume in recent years, including a few romance roles.

So when they get into it he has an easier time making it feel fluid, something Hank is struggling with a little. He’s having to reconsider at lot of the logistics he’s used to, but Jake easily catches Hank’s awkward moments and expertly spins them to look like a natural part of a first time.

Hank was already decently impressed with his co-star’s skill, but once the scene is completely done he has to stop for a minute and just shake the guy’s hand, because that was some A+ skill right there, and Hank learned so much.

“Amazing working with you today,” he says, and Jake takes the handshake with grace and slightly ruddy cheeks. Which could be down to modesty, but much more likely it’s down to how Kelly took her sweet ol’ time tying his robe closed just now. Guess she enjoyed the show.

He lets them go – probably to go fuck in a broom closet somewhere – and heads back to the small guest room that currently doubles as a dressing room until they switch up the house to look like the next location. He’s just zipping his jeans closed when there’s a knock on the door.

  
  
“Yeah, come on in,” he says without looking, assuming it’s the makeup people coming to clean up.

But the door swings open to reveal Connor, and he closes the door quietly behind him as Hank’s hands falter on his t-shirt.

“Hey,” Connor says, and while Hank is still a little amped up from making out on and off for a solid five hours, he’s definitely not imagining that slow, heated way Connor breathes out that one word.

“Hi. You, uh. How’d you think we did today?” Hank asks, stalling for time as he tries to figure out what to do with himself. He’s not at all prepared for whatever’s happening right now.

“You both did great. I saw some of the footage. It looks… really good.” Connor’s voice has a natural hoarse undertone, but right now it sounds almost like a frog in his throat, and he swallows hard, not taking his eyes off Hank as his Adam’s apple bobs. Hank can’t help but follow the movement with his own eyes.

God, is this it? Has Connor finally decided to corner him and put him out of his misery? Hank can’t decide if he’s excited or terrified at the prospect.

“Uhm. Well, thanks. Jake’s a good teacher.”

Connor nods without commenting on that, and continues to just keep his eyes on Hank, like he’s trying to make something happen by sheer force of will. If Hank only knew what Connor wanted he’d pretty much do anything to provide. Fuck, he’s in deep already, and they’ve barely spoken more than a handful of times.

“You… I noticed _you_ didn’t have anyone watching you today.”

He’s is just about to protest, and also ask if Connor hit his head or something after _checking him out stark naked_ , when he realizes what Connor’s actually saying.

Hank is going to _murder_ Jessie the next time he sees them. Considering Jessie’s chatty nature, and also the fact that they were already friends with Connor before introducing him, it seems _extremely unlikely_ that Jessie would just… conveniently _forget_ to inform Connor that Hank is about as single as you can get without becoming a goddamn monk.

What a fucking brat.

“Good thing too, I think Kelly had her phone out half the time. I’ll bet Jake’s sex life is gonna be fun for the next long while,” he jokes, turning his t-shirt inside out and then back again when he realizes what his hands are doing. “But, uh, no. No one for me. I mean. Other than… you know.”

_You._

He’s not quite brave enough to say it out loud, but Connor gets the picture anyway, and the smile now blossoming on his face makes Hank’s goddamn knees weak. He lets himself lean back a little until his shoulders hit the wall, because he does have a _little_ pride left and would like to keep standing during… whatever the fuck this is.

Connor’s just looking at him, as if his face is some kind of awe-inspiring creation that needs full focus to take in, and Hank dives into his t-shirt to give himself a moment to breathe.

But as soon as the shirt’s on he can feel the fucking tag against his collar bone. Christ, any shred of pride he might have had left is clearly out the window now, and he picks at the neck hole with a heavenward sigh.

“Great.”

Connor lets out a low breath of laughter that doesn’t feel mocking at all, and pushes away from the door. “Here, let me fix it for you,” he says, voice still so low and soft it feels like silk in the air.

Hank’s mouth goes completely dry as Connor steps up close and lifts the edge of the shirt with careful fingers, like Hank is a delicately wrapped piece of china.

Yeah, those knees are back to shaking now.

“Arms,” Connor says, and Hank just stands there, speechless, as Connor guides his arms back out through the arm holes, and then slowly turns the shirt around his neck.

His fingers brush against Hank’s neck as he moves the fabric, and, Christ, it’s like being touched by a live wire.

It’s getting hard to _breathe_.

“Connor,” Hank croaks out, not sure whether he’s begging for more or less of what’s happening, but Connor just purses his lips and maneuvers the shirt back over his arms.

  
  
“Just let me help. Didn’t I tell you?” he asks, smoothing the fabric down over Hank’s hips and belly before looking up at him, his eyes pulling Hank in like quicksand. “ _Anything_ you need.”

Screw his knees, now Hank’s just shaking full stop, and Connor blinks slowly at him. “Too much?” he whispers, and Hank gives the tiniest shake of his head.

“No. I mean, I dunno. I’m…”

“Anything you need,” Connor says again, a steely note in his voice now. “Especially if what you need is for me to back off.”

Clearly Connor isn’t doing anything else without a response from Hank, which sucks, because he’s really struggling to remember _how words work_.

“I’m… I’m not… this is a first for me,” he manages eventually. “N-not a _first_ first, but… you know. Art imitates life.”

It’s the best he can do, and Connor – bless him – seems to get it. His warm hand slides painfully slow from Hank’s stomach to his chest, staying there and radiating the heat to the very core of him.

“Don’t worry,” Connor says, his voice like a balm on Hank’s shredded nerves. “I’ll take care of it.” ‘I’ll take care of _you’_ , is what Hank hears, and he’s pretty sure that’s the intention.

There’s some scuffling and chatting getting closer outside the door, and Connor gives Hank’s chest an almost loving little rub, regret washing across face as he pulls away.

“Anything you need, Hank,” he says again, definitely hoarse again. “Anytime.”

And then he’s gone, and Hank is left standing there, breathing like a racehorse and tingling all over.

Is this what puberty is actually supposed to feel like? If it is, then Hank has a lot of people to apologize to.

\- - -

_Al slowly lets himself be laid down on the bed. “Paul, I… what am I supposed to- I’m-”_

_  
  
“Shh, it’s fine. I’ll take care of you.”_

“ _But what if… what if I mess it up?_

_Paul lowers himself down to lie on Al’s chest and lovingly strokes his cheek with his palm. “You won’t. And if you think you did, we’ll fix it.”_

“ _Okay. I’m… it’s okay.”_

“ _Just okay?”_

_Paul’s arm moves below frame, and Al’s mouth falls open, and his hand clenches around Paul’s bicep._

“ _Fuck.”_

_Paul stops moving. “Is that a no?”  
_

“ _No, **fuck** , I mean, yes, goddammit-”_

_Paul laughs softly, and kisses Al calm. “I gotcha, it’s fine.”_

_They share a prolonged gaze._

“ _I’d do anything for you,” Paul breathes, and Al swallows hard._

“ _I- me too, I… I dunno what I’d do if-”_

_Paul kisses him, hard, and no more words are spoken._


	4. Chapter 4

They wrap the sex scene on a Sunday around noon, so when he’s sent home until the next morning, Hank finally has an opportunity for a little self-reflection. And also quite a lot of jerking off.

Even if Connor hadn’t basically propositioned him after the shoot, being keyed up after doing sex scenes is to be expected, so Hank feels no shame about jacking it until his arm hurts.

But once the fog of lust is finally cleared from his brain he makes himself some nicer coffee, puts on sweats, and settles into his couch to do some soul searching.

In some ways it’s helpful to play through Al’s story while this is happening, even though the story isn’t happening chronologically for Hank. Hell, his own personal problems aren’t exactly lining up in an orderly fashion either.

But where Al has to deal with breaking off from his family as they reject him, Hank has no family to consider. Only his own feelings matter here.

After Cole… well, he and Joanie parted ways and haven’t spoken since. Not out of any malice – there just wasn’t room in either of their heads for anything other than their own grief. They’re both pretty obsessive in some ways, which was good when they were in love, and very bad when they were hurting.

They were also both just… too young. Hank likes to think he’s mellowed with age in some areas.

Although there’s a distinct possibility that all he needs is someone like Connor to make him lose his cool all over again.

_Connor._

Damn, Hank sure didn’t see that one coming.

It’s not that he has a problem with the _idea_ of not being straight. It’s just unexpected, and he has to struggle a little bit to see himself like that. When he tries to imagine a future partner for himself, it’s like swimming through wet concrete to look past the _“well there’s probably tits”_ expectation.

He also doesn’t know the lingo for this – does this mean he’s bisexual now? – so he feels a little lost and a lot old.

Which brings another issue to the table. Is he too old for Connor?

As a general rule, Hank vehemently stands by his opinion that if people don’t bother him he doesn’t bother them, and couples with significant age difference is just not something that’s been on his radar much.

But is it fair to Connor to lean into this? Is Hank somehow taking advantage? Or is it just thoughtless to get involved with someone with so much more life to live?

  
  
He’ll be fifty-five in a couple of months, and Connor is… maybe thirty? Age never came up the few times they’ve managed to talk. Plus, Connor is clearly in the middle of a very successful career, while Hank is just trying to extend his resume a little. Can they even make it work?

Hank waves those worries off before he can spiral. There’s literally no way to know any of that without trying.

So that leaves what Hank _wants_.

His _dick_ definitely wants Connor, that’s not remotely in doubt. Jumping into bed with Connor would be easy as breathing, and the only real consequence for Hank’s identity would be going forward with the knowledge that he apparently gets it up for twinks too. That would hardly be revolutionary in any sense.

But he _likes_ Connor. _Really_ likes him.

Even without his obvious flirting he’s a hard man to dislike. He’s kind, hard-working, professional and empathetic, and also brutally honest in a way that appeals hugely to Hank. He can’t _stand_ pussyfooting. There’s a difference between diplomacy and well-meaning obfuscation, and nothing ticks Hank off faster than people cherry picking what information to give him, based on what they _think_ he wants to hear.

Connor doesn’t do that.

Hell, he could hardly be more direct about how much he wants to bone Hank. But does he _like_ Hank? As a person?

And that right there is the meaty center of the matter. Sleeping with men isn’t a problem. But just like his alter ego, Al, falling in _love_ with a man is where the crisis happens.

What would it be like? Going on dates with a man? Taking a walk and holding hands with a man? Kissing a man goodbye or hello?

As much as Hank likes to be pretend he doesn’t give a shit what people think about him, he’s self-aware enough to realize that he does. More than he should, and definitely more than is warranted considering how little he’s ever bothered people around him for anything _they_ do.

He’s gonna have to accept the fact that being a big, obvious dude and having a big, obvious relationship with another dude is _going_ to piss some people off.

Does he care, though?

His immediate instinct is to say _fuck no_ , but he does himself the favor of giving it some actual thought. If he’s learned anything from working on this movie, it is that most people don’t appreciate being someone’s test ride. If he starts something with Connor – assuming that Connor wants more than a roll in the hay – it won’t be fair to him if Hank ends up chickening out because he can’t hack it.

Not that that’s a genuine worry. There’s not a lot that makes Hank bow out once he’s in it to win it. But Connor deserves consideration. He deserves someone who knows what they want, or at the very least someone with the common sense to not just jump in ass first.

So Hank drinks his coffee, resists the urge to pour a little something stronger in it, and by the time the sun sets he’s ready. Ready to see where it goes if he and Connor ever get more than two goddamn minutes together.

And only then does it occur to him that maybe he in part has Jake to thank for his current peace of mind about it, because had he met Connor before this movie, Hank’s not at all sure he would have been this calm. Jake took one for the team in cracking skulls with Hank for a simple smooching session, and Hank is gonna send him a nice thank you card at some point, no matter where this thing with Connor goes.

But he sure hope it goes _somewhere_.

  
  
\- - -

_The door slams hard behind Riley, and Al takes up a defensive stance briefly before relaxing. “Shit, don’t do that, I nearly punched you.”_

_  
  
“You’re gonna wanna punch me even more in a minute, because I’m here to tell you to either commit or fuck off out of Paul’s life.”_

_Al looks like he’s been slapped._

“ _What?”_

“ _I mean it. That man literally saved my life, and I’m not about to just sit here and watch him get jerked around by some asshole with a gay midlife crisis!”_

“ _It’s… I’m not-”  
  
_

_  
“Not what? Not that serious about it? Gee, I never would have guessed.” _

“ _No!” Al cries. “No, I… I **care** about Paul.”_

 __  
  
Riley glares. “Do you? Do you really? Then maybe start caring a little bit more about **communication** , because I just had to watch my best friend in the world choke back tears because he thinks you’re gonna move on soon.”

“ _What the fuck made him think that?!”_

“ _Maybe the fifteen calls from your ex wife in the last few days?”_

_Al barks out a bitter laugh. “Jesus, fuck, that’s not… she’s taking me to fucking court!”_

_Riley gives him a long look. “Then maybe reconsider what kind of relationship you feel like you have here if you didn’t think to share that with your **boyfriend**. If that really is what he is to you. Get it the fuck together, or I don’t care how much of a tiny piss ant you think I am, I **will** find a way to hurt you.” _

_Riley stomps out, slamming the door again. Al falls back against the nearest wall, and hides his eyes behind a shaking hand._

\- - -

“I can’t fucking believe we lost that footage,” Hank grumbles as soon as they hear cut, and Jessie comes back through the door.

“Hey, at least we got the re-shoot in one take. And I actually like this one better.” They cast Hank a sideways glance. “Maybe someone’s been doing some reflecting since last time?”

“Speaking of which, I’m gonna kick your ass, you little shit.” Hank points at him menacingly. “I guess you somehow _forgot_ to tell Connor that I’m about as spoken for as the goddamn Pope.”

Jessie avoids his eyes, pretending to pick some completely invisible fluff off their sweater. “Hm. Must have slipped my mind.”

“I’ll bet, you fucking brat.”

“So I enjoy a little harmless drama, sue me.”

Hank glares. “Harmless my ass, Connor damn near thought I was a married man!”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t be joking around with pretty women while in your boxers,” Jessie says with a fucking sly look. Hank will one hundred percent find a way to punish this little fucker.

But maybe he doesn’t have to, because, out of nowhere, Connor darts in from behind a wall, and punches Jessie in the shoulder hard enough that they flinch.

“Ow! Connor, what the hell!”

“You deserve it. You lied to my face when you said you didn’t know if he was with someone. I could have made a complete fool of myself. Bad friend, Jessie,” he says, with a glare about as threatening as a kitten.

“Holy shit, you two really do belong together, fuck my life,” Jessie moans, rubbing their shoulder as they make their escape to the dressing room.

Hank chuckles at their receding back before turning to face Connor.

“You think they’re right?” Connor asks, and it must be a serious question, because Hank can see the green light on his headset blinking, meaning someone’s yelling in his ear. And yet, he’s still looking at Hank like it’s only the two of them there, waiting for an answer.

“Well. I guess the only people who can answer that is us, huh?”

Connor presses his lips together around a smile, and nods down at his tablet, looking unsure for the first time since they first met. “Stick around tonight after wrap?” he asks, and Hank can only nod, and watch him speed-walk back to set.

They really need to make the time, now, even though the day isn’t even half done and everything is currently a mess. One lesson Hank’s learned from a long, troubled life is that if something’s important enough, you prioritize it.

And this is definitely important.


	5. Chapter 5

They’re roughly at the half way mark through the shooting schedule, and the set is barely organized chaos. Hank does his usual thing and shuts the fuck up, staying out of the way until he’s needed.

Whatever else he gets known for, more than anything he wants to be a pleasant person to work with. He’s still just so grateful that he got a chance to follow his dreams this late in life, and he’s not about to sabotage himself by being a difficult asshole for people who have a lot harder jobs than he does.

“Speak for yourself, I couldn’t act myself out of a paper bag,” one of the makeup people tells him as she’s applying what Hank is assuming is some kind of foundation. Or maybe she’s just using putty filler to smooth out his wrinkles, he has no idea. But he’s been in movies that required him to be in hair and makeup for up to seven hours a day before shooting even fucking started, so he’s completely cool with her basically sculpting him a new face as long as he can take a piss when he needs to.

“And I couldn’t name even _one_ of the things on the table here. Like that thing, what the fuck is that supposed to be?”

“An eyelash curler. And you know that, stop acting stupid.”

Hank huffs. “I’m an actor, it’s what I do.” It still makes something go warm in his gut to say it, even after a decade. _I’m an actor_.

“I’m _fucked_ ,” comes Connor’s voice suddenly from door, and Hank damn near gets poked in the eye with a brush as he turns his head.

“Connor? What are you doing here?”

“Hiding,” he says, closing the door to the dressing room behind him. “If I hear one more person tell me that there’s another problem with this set I will either commit murder or run away to join the circus.”

The makeup girl gives them both a look and then gathers up her bag with a smile that’s frankly a little too smug. “I’ll leave you guys to it.”

And then she’s gone. Connor hangs his head with a groan. “Hank, I, uh… I need to tell you something. I forgot I was on a call earlier. When, uh. When I heard you and Jessie. I’m afraid any chance of being subtle about this is out the window.”

Hank shakes his head with a small laugh. “Yeah, I figured. Guess Jessie is gonna get more drama than they could ever dream of.”

Connor’s eyes find his, and they look _sad_ , which is completely unacceptable. “I’m so sorry, Hank. I didn’t mean to make this uncomfortable for you,” Connor says, sounding just as sad as he looks, and Hank can’t bear it.

“Hey,” he says, getting out of his chair. “Hey, no, don’t- don’t apologize. It’s not uncomfortable. Okay, I would have maybe preferred it happening with a slightly lower number of people poking their noses in, but it’s okay. No one here’s likely to give us shit. Other than Jessie, that little fucker.”

That gets a laugh out of Connor, and Hank breathes a silent sigh of relief as the sadness leaves his face. Though, honestly, that’s not that much of an improvement.

“Shit, you look tired,” Hank says, and Connor lets his head fall back to gently bonk against the wall.  
  


  
“I am. So tired, you have no idea. Loosing that scene just messed up the whole schedule. Markus and I have been running around since before dawn. I feel like I need a cigarette, and I don’t even smoke,” he huffs, and Hank shakes his head.

“Can’t recommend it. It’s pretty gross.”

“Of course you were a rebel,” Connor says, a fond tilt to his voice, and Hank rolls his eyes.

“If you get off on the idea that I was some kind of bad boy, I’m afraid I’m gonna have to disappoint you.”

Connor’s eyes go all half-lidded and slow, like he’s not seeing Hank as he is, all gussied up for a meet-the-parents scene, but rather like they’re all alone somewhere warm and familiar. It punches Hank right in the gut.

“You could never disappoint me.”

Make that a one-two punch, _fuck_.

“I could,” Hank says, daringly moving in close. “But I promise I’ll try my best not to.”

He stops just before they touch. He’s a brave man, but touching Connor right now feels like touching a wonder of the world, and a part of Hank can’t help but worry that it’ll be like leaving dirty fingerprint smudges on the Mona Lisa.

Connor’s eyes never leave his, and they’re so brown and dark it feels like they just pull Hank in, and the only thing stopping it is the rest of Connor’s gorgeous face, only inches away. With those smooth, freckled cheeks, pink lips and that regal nose. He’s genuinely like a work of art, and Hank can’t take his eyes off him.

But as smooth and young as he looks, there’s no doubt that he knows himself and what he wants, and his gaze darts between Hank’s lips and eyes in question.

“ _Hank_ ,” he whispers, but there’s no way Hank can form more words right now without fucking them up, so he moves before Connor can ask.

He doesn’t have to lean down that much, and Connor is already tilting his head up to meet Hank, and it feels like slotting a key into a lock how perfectly their lips fit together. It’s shocking how good it is from the very first touch, and Hank can’t help but sigh through his nose as he presses in closer.

Connor lets out a small sound, somewhere between a whimper and a moan, and clearly has none of the same problems as Hank when it comes to where to put his hands. His arms go around Hank’s middle without hesitation, pulling him in as close as he can get without breaking the kiss, and Hank grabs blindly for a nearby coat hook for support. His knees are _mush_.

Not because things are getting lewd. By all accounts this is one of the more chaste kisses of Hank’s life. But just pressing himself against Connor’s smooth lips is like sinking into a pit of flower petals or some similar poetic shit, and Hank knows nothing about poetry.

But goddammit if he doesn’t want to recite fucking sonnets into Connor’s sweet mouth. And when Connor’s lips part ever so slightly, just enough to share breath, Hank can’t stand it anymore, and finally lets his arms gather up Connor like he wants. Screw the Mona Lisa, Connor is _real_.

The sound Connor makes should be fucking illegal, and Hank answers with a helpless groan of his own, pressing hard kiss after hard kiss into Connor’s lips, sometimes off center, but somehow always perfect anyway.

Connor’s fingers dig into Hank’s back so hard that it hurts a little, and, sadly, that’s enough to bring him back to Earth long enough to remember where they are.

The light on Connor’s headset is blinking again. Red this time, meaning he has a call – or, more likely, several – that he hasn’t answered yet, and any minute now Hank is going to get called to set, preferably able to show up _without_ looking like he just got lovingly mugged.

It’s a struggle to part from Connor, but Hank finally manages it, and immediately hates this new state of affairs. Clearly Connor does too, because he chases after Hank’s lips, getting one more kiss in before allowing them to part completely.

“Connor...”

  
  
“Yes. I know,” Connor says with a heavy sigh. “Not the time.” He lets his head fall forward to bump against Hank’s collarbone, and, god, Hank feels like he could fucking _fly_.

“Later, though, I promise,” Hank murmurs. “I won’t leave until you do. I might fall asleep on ya, cause I’m an old man, but I won’t leave.”

Connor snorts against Hank’s overheated skin. “I’m younger than you, but I’m fairly sure I’ll fall asleep first. I haven’t slept more than a couple of hours the last three days.”

“What the hell? That’s not okay, Connor, if these assholes are working you that hard-”

“Hank,” Connor says on a laugh, and shuts Hank up like a hammer to the face simply by lifting his head and fixing his amazing brown eyes on Hank’s blue. “I chose this. I love my job. Don’t blame my employers, please? As much as I enjoy you going all papa bear on me, I’d rather you didn’t at this particular moment.”

That’s a hard thing to argue against, and Hank can only shake his head at himself. Mellowed with age, _yeah right_.

“I don’t fucking know what it is about you, Connor,” Hank murmurs. “Guess you just bring up some kinda overprotective side of me or some shit.”

“Or perhaps,” Connor says slowly, dragging a gentle knuckle along Hank’s jaw and under his chin, “a possessive one.”

Fuck, Connor needs to stop giving Hank instant boners like this, or it’s gonna start affecting his work real damn soon.

“Jesus christ, I don’t have time for a cold shower right now, you need to behave yourself,” Hank says, trying really hard to be the sensible one for once.

“Maybe what I need is a little… incentive.” Connor tilts his head up, and Hank has to look to the heavens for strength.

“God fucking help me.” He looks back down at Connor. “Get back to work, you filthy tease.”

“I would,” Connor says with a smile that looks downright dangerous. “But you’ll have to let go of me first.”

Hank looks down and makes a big show of looking baffled at how his arms are still closed tight around Connor. “Oh. Well, shit.”

Connor lets out a frankly adorable snorting laugh, and Hank gently taps him on the back of the head before pulling away, arms and all.

“Brat. Now pick up your damn phone.”

There’s a sound outside, much like someone shuffling around, and considering the likelihood that every single nosy-ass person on this set are probably deeply curious about what’s currently going on inside this dressing room, Hank is struck with the immediate and violent urge to just jerk everyone around.

It’s half the reason he wanted to become an actor in the first place. It’s in his blood to try and bullshit people sometimes, if nothing else just for laughs in a cruel world.

He turns to Connor, and it’s like telepathy how he reads Hank, and they immediately take up positions, just in time for a knock on the door.

“Yeah?” Hank says, in his chair, several pages into the script, pencil between his teeth. Connor has already picked up his call, and is leaning casually against the wall, making notes on his tablet.

Makeup girl is back – Hank’s pretty sure her name is Cheryl – looking between them like something might explode.

“Uhm. Is everything, uhm. Okay in here?”

Hank turns to her with one eyebrow raised. “Yeah? Why wouldn’t it be?”

She looks between them both a few more times. “Well. No reason. Hank, they want you on set in five.”

  
  
“Great, thanks. Hey, could you just make sure I didn’t mess up your work chewing on this pencil? I need some gum or something, this is a bad habit.”

“Sure,” Cheryl says, clearly hitching on a cheerful mask after the disappointment that she wasn’t greeted with a pair of very happy people. She puts her bag down again, and Hank turns to her in his chair.

“Maybe double check this whole area,” he says, twirling a finger around his mouth, and he has a front row seat to when she sees his reddened lips and the penny drops.

Her eyes widen, and he winks at her. “Nothin’ goin’ on in here, right?”

There’s a couple of seconds of her catching up before she giggles, dropping her brush twice before getting hold of it. “Right, right, no, nothing at all,” she says through snickering, covering up the evidence.

She was right, she’s a terrible actor. But she’s an amazingly good sport, and even helps Connor freshen up his abused, pale skin too before they all leave the room.


	6. Chapter 6

“ _Dad? I want you meet someone. This is Al. My boyfriend,” Paul says, slowly and clearly._

_His father who is very old and in a wheelchair, narrows his eyes at Al, and takes in his whole frame in a slow pan from shoes to face._

“ _ **Boy** friend? If that thing right there is a boy, then I’m a freakin’ toddler! Where’d you come from, sasquatch? The Yukon?”_

_Paul hides his face behind a palm. “Oh my god, Dad, please-”_

“ _Uh, no, Sir. Kansas,” Al cuts in, and gets a slow nod in response._

“ _Of course. Only way you coulda been bigger was if it’d been Texas.”_

_  
  
“My mommah’s from Texas.”_

  
  
_“Hah! I knew it. Whatever she fed ya, make sure to get Paul some of that, too, ya hear me? We shortstops need all the help we can get.”_

_Paul now has both hands in front of his face. “God, Dad, could you **not**...” _

_Al strokes Paul’s back, and keeps up a very polite demeanor._

“ _I’ll be sure to take good care of him, Sir.”_

_The old man smiles a toothless smile, and rolls a little closer. “Damn right you will, or I’ll kick your ass, **boy** friend.” _

_Paul groans and turns to shout out through the door: “Mom! I think Dad needs his medication now!”_

\- - -

Hank had only been partly joking when he’d claimed earlier that he might fall asleep while waiting for Connor. But thanks to the chaotic start to the day it’s midnight before the final shot is in the bag, and Hank could honestly fall asleep standing up at this point.

But while shooting is done there’s at least a few more hours of work left for the rest of the crew, clearing out the set and getting everything ready for the next day, so Hank finds a chair as out of the way as he can, and settles in to wait for Connor. He catches a glimpse of him here and there, darting from one place to the next and always talking into his headset. Sometimes he’s on his own, and sometimes with the other PA Markus nearby.

From what Hank’s been able to pick up from other people on set, Connor and Markus have essentially the same job, but, thanks to differing talents, Connor often ends up with the practical jobs with set and tech, and Markus tends to handle the cast, the media and various other things that can’t be solved with a hammer or duct tape. They’re both incredibly personable, however, and seem to work together damn near seamlessly, coordinating everything via their tablets. It’s a little scary sometimes how efficient they are.

Hank’s only talked to Markus a couple of times, and if he hadn’t already been the kind of guy to avoid making a fuss if at all possible, he sure would have made an effort in order to please Markus. Something about the guy just makes you want to not disappoint him. He’s only barely older than Connor, which means he’s still half Hank’s age, and Hank still has an intense urge to make him proud.

There are just too many charismatic people on this movie, and Hank’s gonna need a vacation as a hermit for a few weeks once shooting’s done, because it just gets overwhelming.

Not nearly as overwhelming, however, as what’s going on with himself and Connor. And Hank sure as hell doesn’t want a vacation from _that_.

Sitting there waiting, he gets a little lost in daydreaming about taking a vacation _with_ Connor. Somewhere remote. Just the two of them, a door that locks and a king-sized bed. Maybe a fireplace. _Hell yeah_.

He’s almost dozed off when he feels eyes on him, and blinks awake to find Connor’s eyes seeking him out from across the room. He looks as tired as Hank feels, and doesn’t make the slightest attempt at hiding the yearning in his face, which only makes Hank feel even more like just kidnapping Connor to somewhere nice and cozy.

As if reading his mind, Connor smiles at him, all slow and sleepy, and they share a long gaze until Markus gently pokes Connor with a pen to get his attention. They have an animated debate, which Hank assumes Connor loses, because he eventually slumps his shoulders and hands over his tablet. Markus pats him on the shoulder with that almost fatherly smile that makes people prostrate themselves before him on a daily basis, and then walks away.

Connor looks after him for a second before easing his headset off, leaving adorable indentations in his hair. Then he turns around and starts walking over, and Hank feels like his exhaustion just evaporates from seeing Connor’s beautiful smile approaching.

“Hey,” Hank says, getting up and meeting Connor half way. “Markus let you go for the night?”

Connor huffs. “More like forced me. Said he won’t let me come back until I’ve slept at least six hours.”

“He’s a good man.”

“I guess. But I don’t want to sleep right now,” Connor says, and it could have been a blatant tease, but it mostly just comes out soft and whiny, and Hank feels his insides turn to goo.

“Well, you’re gonna. Want a ride home?”

“No,” Connor says through a pout. “I want to get you alone for more than a few minutes with no gossip addicts right outside the door.”

Hank huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, well. I guess all I can offer is my car. Which we’ll be alone in for a while.”

Connor groans with dissatisfaction. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“What if I sweeten the pot a little then, hm?” Hank says, wanting very much to touch Connor right then and there, but he’s not sure they’re at PDA levels yet. Especially since Connor doesn’t seem to make a move for any of that either. “I drive you home, _and_ walk you to your door.” _And kiss you goodnight_ is very much implied.

“Tuck me in, and you’ve got a deal,” Connor says, voice sweet and slow like dripping honey, and had Hank been a little less tired himself and a lot less concerned for Connor’s well-being, he would have agreed to that.

But for now he shakes his head. “No deal. You need sleep.”

“Ugh, fine. But if you drive me home you’ll have to pick me up tomorrow morning.”

“Sure. What time?” Hank asks, leading Connor off set.

“Five AM.”

“Nuh uh, Markus said six hours of sleep,” Hank argues, shutting the door to the house behind them, and leading Connor down the street to where his car is parked.

“Yes, but if you pick me up at five, we can spend a little time together before going to set. What Markus doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Connor says all casually, and jesus christ, Hank can suddenly see why Connor and Jessie are friends.

_Butter wouldn’t melt in their fucking mouths._

“ _I’ll_ know, and I happen to agree with Markus.”

“Hmph, spoilsport,” Connor says, and walks to the passenger side of Hank’s car. It’s pitch dark outside, only a couple of dim streetlamps lighting up, and Hank helplessly follows Connor, mesmerized by the soft light bouncing off his hair like tiny halos.

Connor turns to him with a smirk when he realizes Hank isn’t going to the driver’s side. “Something you need, Hank?”

What a little shit. _God_ , Hank adores him.

Without actively deciding to do so, Hank advances on Connor, caging him in and placing both hands on the car roof on either side of him, as if to trap him. But for someone trapped, Connor looks fucking _delighted_.

“Yeah,” Hank says, voice rough in his throat. “I need you to go the fuck home, get some sleep, and take care of yourself a little.”

“But I’d much rather _you_ took care of me.”

It’s more than any sane man should be expected to deal with, and Hank leans in as close as he can get without actually touching, even going so far as inching back again a little when Connor drifts towards him.

“Here’s the thing,” Hank says, low and private. “I wanna do well with this movie. It’s important for my career, and I care about that. And I know you’re invested in this movie too. So how about we try and behave ourselves just a little bit for now. And then, once shooting is done, I take you somewhere nice. For like a week. Just you and me.”

“Promise?” Connor whispers, his breath hot across Hank’s lips.

“On my fucking honor.”

Connor’s eyes look completely black in the low light, and Hank has no choice now but to close the distance for a sweet and slow kiss. Connor immediately pushes for more, but Hank keeps it chaste. He wants to do this _right_.

He gently pushes Connor’s hands down as they reach for him, and kisses away the pout that ensues.

“Look, behave yourself on the ride home, and I’ll kiss you goodnight at your door, _and_ tuck you in over the phone. How’s that.”

Connor sighs, clearly frustrated. “If that’s the best deal you can offer.”

“Make me some counter-offers on the way, and we’ll talk about it,” Hank says, moving to the driver’s side before he gets distracted again.

Connor negotiates his way not only to several goodnight kisses, – Hank still keeps them chaste, to Connor’s great frustration – a phone call _and_ coffee delivered the next morning, but also to an _actual date_.

He’s certainly efficient, Hank will say that much.

As they leave the car the next morning, Connor looking gorgeous and marginally less tired as he sips his coffee, Hank decides he might as well get a few things cleared up before they move on.

“Hey, Connor, wait a sec. Before we go in, I gotta ask. Is it okay for you that people know? About us, I mean.”

Connor frowns at him. “Yes? _I_ don’t have a problem with it. I thought _you_ did!”

“What? Why?”

“Because you pretended we didn’t kiss in the dressing room!”

“That was just bullshitting the gossip brigade a little bit!” Hank cries, feeling pretty wrong-footed from the realization that some miscommunication has clearly happened. “And I thought _you_ said you didn’t want to feed the gossiping!”

“That was for _your_ benefit!”

They share a look of disbelief before both cracking into snickers. “Jesus christ,” Hank wheezes. “This is what happens when you start something in the middle of a tight shooting schedule.”

“Yeah,” Connor agrees, running a hand through his hair and messing up his perfect parting just enough to make Hank feel warm.

He feels even warmer, however, when he reaches out a hand and Connor takes it, lacing their fingers together, and keep them locked tight all the way to set.

The warmth is joined by some measure of resignation when an intern spots them advancing, and disappears into the house like his ass is on fire.

“Oh boy, he we go,” Hank mutters, bracing himself for the worst.

He’s not sure what he expected, exactly, but he’s still pretty relieved when they come through the door to applause and some wolf whistling, although it _is_ a little bit impressive just how many people drop everything they’re doing to clap at a couple of dudes holding hands.

“Yeah yeah, get back to work, you’ve all had your fun now. Jeez, getting a fucking hobby,” Hank grouses, but a part of him is actually pleased, too. Most movie sets he’s been on have been okay, but crews that are this supportive are few and far between, and he supposes he couldn’t have picked a better place to tread completely new ground on his sexuality.

Markus comes towards them, both tablets in hand, so Connor squeezes Hank’s hand, and turns to face him. “See you later?”

“Hope so. But if not, then tomorrow night. Hell or high water.”

Connor’s beautiful eyes go all crinkly with his smile, and he leans in for a brief yet sweet kiss. “It’s a _date_.”

“That’s what you keep telling me,” Hank says, giving Connor’s hand one last squeeze before letting him go do his job.


	7. Chapter 7

_Al is in front of the bathroom mirror. He trims some wayward hairs in his beard. He smooths down his hair and brows. He pokes a little at his wrinkles, and lets out a long breath._

“ _You can do this. You’ve had first dates before. This isn’t any different.”_

_He gives himself another long look in the mirror, and lets his head bonk forward to hit the glass._

“ _ **Fuck**.”_

\- - -

Despite both Hank and Connor’s best efforts, finding time to meet is just not easy in the latter half of a very time-restricted shoot. They only manage a couple of kisses in passing during the day, and by the time the day is over they’re both so deeply exhausted all they can do is head home and try for some sleep.

But at least Hank gets to fall asleep to Connor sleepily mumbling at him over the phone, and the last thing on his mind is wondering if Connor actually forgot to take his headset off for bed.

The next day is one of the few days no shooting can be done, so Hank gets to spend the entire day bunched up in nervous excitement, obsessing about his hair and clothes, while waiting for Connor to be done.

There’s no way of telling exactly when he’ll be able to leave, and Hank really should just wait. He should stay the fuck home, and let Connor leave work and go home for a change before their date.

Their _first date_.

His car keys are in his hand before he’s even finished the thought.

It’s a little strange being the only cast member on set among the mess of set props and wiring, but it’s entirely worth it when Connor spots him, and damn near runs into his embrace.

Hank can’t help but let out a deep groan of pure satisfaction at having Connor locked tightly in his arms again, and from the way Connor presses in close, he feels the same way.

“One more hour,” Connor says in his ear. “Just one more hour.”

“Promise?” Hank Murmurs, mirroring Connor’s own words, and Connor huffs an amused breath against his neck.

  
  
“Markus did. Said he wouldn’t be able to stand watching me mope around if he kept me late tonight.” He pulls back and gives Hank a slow and soft kiss. “The next few weeks there’ll be no mercy, however,” he says on a sigh when they part. “Guess we’ll have to make the most of tonight.”

Hank gives him a squeeze, and fights down the butterflies in his gut. “Look, get back to work. I’ll stick around. We’ll talk later.”

Connor nods and gives him one last kiss before darting back to work, leaving Hank buzzing both in his lips and his stomach.

He finds a chair again, this time keeping deliberately in line of sight of Connor, since he kinda feels like he’s allowed now, and watching Connor work is pretty amazing. Just seeing him move around between masses of people, talking on both his headset and with people around him, pointing and directing the flow of people and objects.

It’s sexy, is what it is, and at this rate Hank might develop some kind of preppy nerd fetish, because Connor definitely looks the part with his neat button-up shirt and pressed slacks.

The hour crawls by, but eventually Markus does take mercy on Connor and snatches the tablet out of his hands. Connor seems all too happy to let it go, for once, and even rips off the headset for Markus to take as well, before bounding off towards Hank.

“Do you wanna go home and change, or-” Hank starts to say, but is cut off by Connor crashing into him lips first.

“No,” Connor says against Hank’s lips, and it’s only the knowledge that at least eight pairs of eyes are on them that makes Hank gently push Connor away.

“Well, let’s… go somewhere else, hm?”

“Yes,” Connor breathes, not taking his eyes off Hank for even a moment as they leave the house.

“You got anything you need to-”

“No.”

Hank blinks. “Eager much?”

“You’re not?” Connor asks, his voice innocent but definitely tinged with a hint of uncertainty. Hank has no choice now but to haul him in for another hard kiss, but still refusing to deepen it when Connor tries.

  
  
“Connor… if anything, I’m _too_ eager.”

“Really,” Connor says flatly, and he’s got good reason to. But Hank is an _actor_ , and pretending for various reasons is what he _does._ But it’s crunch time now, and he hauls Connor by the hand to his car.

“My place or yours,” he asks, aware what Connor might think he’s asking for, but equally aware that they need to get a few things straight before anything else happens.

“Mine,” Connor says, and Hank doesn’t dare look at him. His voice alone is like _fire_.

He parks on Connor’s street with a squeal of tires, but waits until they’re both inside before he takes Connor’s hand in his, presses it against his chest, and lets it all fall away. All of the polish. The politeness he’s gotten accustomed to slapping onto his murderous face to not scare people. The professional mask of someone who knows what they’re doing so people will hire him and he can put food on the table. The face of someone not constantly afraid of fucking it all up.

Every single layer, he lets it all go, lets Connor _see_ him, see all of his desire, affection and fear with no filter. And from the way Connor’s mouth drops open it’s a significant change.

“ _Hank_ ,” he whispers, and Hank shakes his head to stop him.

“No, Connor, lemme just… I _a_ _m_ too eager. If I let myself go, if I let myself just… do what I want… I don’t know if I can _stop_.”

“What on _earth_ makes you think I _want_ you to?!” Connor asks, looking genuinely confused.

Hank has to bite down on his lip, because those mental images are just not good for his peace of mind. “It’s not that simple. I’ve hurt people before, just from being too… _much_. Too big and strong, too intense.” He squeezes Connor’s hand between both of his own. “It’d _kill_ me if I did that to you.”

There’s a moment where Connor just looks at him, before there’s a spark in his eye. A spark of something _dangerous_ that makes Hank feel significantly smaller all of a sudden.

“Hank,” Connor says firmly. “If you trust me at all, then trust this: I can take care of myself. If at any point I feel like things are too much, then please also have faith that I _will_ let you know.”

“But what if-” is all Hank gets out before the world tilts and his face smacks up against a wall, while his arm is being painfully twisted behind his back.

“Ow, _fuck!_ ”

“Believe me now?” Connor says right behind his ear, not even out of breath, keeping Hank’s arm locked with enough force that he’d have to ignore quite a lot of pain to get out of it, and Hank can’t decide if he feels more stupid or horny.

“Okay, okay, _christ_ , point taken.”

Connor gives another small push on Hank’s arm, just enough to hurt and really drive the message home, before finally letting him go. Hank’s hand is buzzing, and he shakes it out, not sure how he’s supposed to feel about how his _dick_ throbs about as much as his shoulder.

Definitely something to look into at some point, Hank figures.

But for right now he’s still coming to terms with the idea that Connor won’t let him hold back anymore.

The thing is, it’s not a hardship. It’s not even something that weighs heavily on Hank’s mind at all. It’s just something that’s been a part of who he is his whole life, seeing as he’s always been kinda huge for his age, always been told to be careful, _don’t play too rough_.

It’s not about seeing Connor as made of sturdier stuff than most, it’s the idea of seeing _anyone_ as anything but worryingly breakable that messes with Hank’s mind.

Connor can’t possibly know, but he does seem to understand that Hank is struggling, and he gently rubs Hank’s shoulders in what feels like an apology.

“Look, I’m not trying to pressure you into anything, Hank. You’re just giving me confusing signals sometimes. So. What do you want?”

Hanks sighs. Trying to gather his thoughts when Connor is so close and warm and beautiful is like trying to gather up smoke with his hands.

“I dunno, I… I guess I wanted to do things… _right_. Whatever the fuck that means.”

“Want _ed_?” Connor asks, because he’s nothing if not attentive.

“Yeah. I think maybe somewhere in my mind I’d decided that Al’s way of doing things is the only way I’m allowed to handle this stuff. He’s very traditional, you know? Wanting to wine and dine his man, and do dating according to a fucking schedule.”

Connor huffs out an amused breath. “That’s not you, I take it.”

“Well, I’m not against it, not at all. And if you want us to go out on a date like you said, then I’m there, all the way. But, historically? I’m… well I’m usually the kinda guy who puts out on the first date,” Hank admits, feeling a twinge of shame about it.

“Promise?” Connor says, back to dripping honey from his voice so abruptly Hank’s head is spinning.

“Connor… christ, if it wasn’t clear already, then lemme just spell it out for you. You can have me _any_ way you want me.”

Connor’s hands are hot through Hank’s shirt, still sliding slowly up and down his arms, finally going all the way up to snake behind Hank’s neck.

“If you really mean that-” Connor says, breath washing deliciously between their lips as Hank fumbles his way to take hold of Connor’s waist and drag him in closer.

“I _really_ do.”

“Then I’ve only got one thing to ask you.”

“ _Anything_ ,” Hank murmurs, dizzy from how close Connor is, and only wanting more.

“Stop. Holding. Back.”

Connor’s voice is barely even a whisper, but he might as well have punched every word with his fist into Hank’s gut for how hard he feels them there, and he hunches forward, finally letting Connor’s gravity-like pull win him over completely.

He opens up in every way he knows how, laying himself bare in ways far more intimidating than showing skin. He lets Connor feel his yearning, his _hunger_ , his desperate need to hold and be held, and it’s relief like cutting open a painful, blood-pounding wound the way Connor presses fingertip bruises into his skin as they crash together.

Connor kisses like _he’s_ the one starving, opening up wide, and damn near forcing Hank to his knees from how hard he pushes it. And, jesus fucking christ, Hank _would_. He would sink to his knees right now and worship everything Connor is, if Connor would only let go of him long enough. Which doesn’t seem to be happening anytime soon.

It’s not _making out_ as much as it’s a consensual exchange of desperation.

It _hurts_. Hank’s back already has bruises from Connor’s fingers – not to mention his still throbbing shoulder – and Hank can feel Connor’s upper lip cracking a little. Not bleeding yet, but it will soon if he doesn’t let up.

He _doesn’t_.

Hank tastes the blood on the next ferocious press of Connor’s lips, and it’s driving him crazy in both good and bad ways. He wants to stop this, wants to make sure Connor’s okay, wants to make it up to him, even though, logically, he’s aware _he’s_ not the one at fault.

As if sensing his thoughts, Connor takes hold of his skull, nails scratching his scalp almost as a warning to not dare move away, and Hank heeds the fucking warning. More than gladly.

His hands feel useless, grabbing and kneading at random. But, from the noises Connor’s making, it seems Hank’s bumbling attention is very much welcome. Every moan and whimper is given to Hank like a gift, right onto his tongue, and he gives right back with some of his own.

They sound _obscene_.

And they haven’t even moved out of Connor’s damn entrance-way.

Groping at whatever he can reach eventually gets Hank a good handful of ass-cheek, and that makes Connor break their borderline violent kiss for the first time.

“ _Ha-ank_ ,” he moans brokenly, and Hank would quite gladly wave goodbye to his mortal coil right now with that angel choir in his ear.

He gasps in as much breath as he can while he has the chance, and good thing too, because Connor doesn’t waste a second getting back to damn near eating Hank alive almost immediately.

There’s a different feel to his desperation now, though, and he claws at Hank’s shirt before apparently giving up and just ripping his own open, sending buttons flying.

Hank’s had dalliances with women of all shapes and sizes in the past, so the lack of tits doesn’t even phase him. What does make his mouth go slack mid-kiss, is how Connor grabs for Hank’s nearest hand, and without further ado shoves it against his chest, as if waiting a second longer for Hank to get around to touching him skin to skin is unacceptable.

Fuck, Connor’s _hot_. Figuratively and literally. His skin is so warm and alive, muscles bunching and relaxing underneath in time with Hank’s hands seizing handful after greedy handful.

“Yes, Hank, _please_ ,” Connor whimpers, and Hank finally finds enough brain power to actually stick to a goal.

Had things been less frantic he might have tried for something with more finesse, but right now they’re clearly both caught in a state of mind where the only solution is coming your brains out as soon as humanly possible.

And, also, the small part of Hank’s brain not currently devoted to his dick does also really want to take his time with Connor. But that’s for later.

Right now, Connor is mashing himself against Hank so hard that whatever is on the wall behind him is probably completely destroyed already. Something definitely clatters to the floor, and Hank couldn’t possibly give less of a shit right now.

What he _does_ give a shit about is making Connor come. He wants to see it, wants to hear it, _feel_ it. Wants to make Connor fall apart in the most beautiful way.

They’re clearly in agreement about it, considering how Connor’s already rutting against whatever he can, and Hank obligingly pulls Connor up to straddle his thigh. They’re just different enough in height that just frotting together won’t be realistic, but this is good, this is _great_ , Hank’s own boner is completely unimportant right now compared to how Connor seizes up with shocked pleasure and then grinds Hank’s thigh so hard the denim squeaks.

“Hank… Hank, oh _fuck_.”

“Yeah. Come on, Connor,” Hank coaxes between heaving breaths as Connor finally releases his lips in favor of moaning into his ear. “Come on, baby, take it, take what you need.”

It sounds like he’s begging, because he is. At this moment it feels like he could never want anything in the world more than to feel Connor come.

“Touch me. Fuck, please touch-” Connor pants, and Hank happily obeys. He digs his fingers into Connor’s ass, helping the rhythm, and while that does seem to make Connor happy, it’s obviously not what he’s asking for.

Connor grabs one of his hands and yanks it off his ass hard enough that Hank has a split second of worry that he messed something up, but then Connor is sucking Hank’s fingers into his mouth, and _okay_. Hank can take a goddamn hint.

“ _Jesus_ , okay, okay, show me how.”

Connor’s shaking hands fumble around with his zipper, and as soon as he gets his slacks undone he lets go of Hank’s fingers with an indecent wet sound, and leads Hank’s hand back down.

If he thought Connor felt warm before it’s nothing to how scorching he is here, the saliva doing nothing to cool anything down at all. It’s not Hank’s first time with ass-play, but everyone’s preferences and pain thresholds are different, and he tries his best to be careful as he feels his way around.

Connor seems to have no such reservations, though.

“In… come on, _in_ , please,” he begs, still rutting desperately, and Hank has to just trust that Connor knows what he wants and needs.

He carefully dips a single fingertip inside, and it’s like nothing, there’s no surprised clench, no sudden tension. Just Connor’s voice going louder and his arms locking even harder around Hank’s neck.

“ _Fuck_ , please, two, I need _more_ , Hank, _please_ ,” Connor babbles, and Hank feels every single word in the throbbing in his own dick.

“Okay, baby, okay. Anything you want.”

From this angle there’s no going deep, but that doesn’t seem to matter to Connor. Pressing two fingers inside is just a little bit of a stretch, and that’s clearly what Connor needs, and he goes high-pitched in Hank’s ear.

“Yes! _God_ , fuck, _yes!_ ”

Encouraged by the delighted response, Hank carefully eases his fingers out before pushing in again, and Connor mashes back against them immediately with a goddamn _beautiful_ moan.

“ _Please_ ,” he whines, sounding damn near close to tears, and Hank’s protective instinct kicks in _hard_.

He takes charge, falling into that role easy as always, and locks his arm around Connor’s middle to keep him in place. Then he shoves his fingers in again, guiding the rhythm against him, pushing in every time he grinds down, and keeps it slower.

With Hank controlling the pace, movements steady as a fucking metronome, Connor builds his orgasm in a rapid climb, his voice going hoarse against Hank’s neck as he clings and begs and moans.

“H-Hank!” he stutters, pressing his cock against Hank’s thigh so hard his whole body shakes, and then finally goes taut, back like a steel rod under Hank’s arm, and his ass like a vice around his fingers.

He stays like that for a good few seconds, locked in his pleasure, before the tension releases and then clenches again, once, twice… three times as he comes in his pants, right there against Hank’s thigh. He can feel warmth seeping through the fabric, and god, he wishes he could have seen it. But that’s for next time.

“That’s it. That’s it, baby, fuck, you’re doing so good,” Hank murmurs into Connor’s hair as he slowly comes down from both his orgasm and Hank’s thigh.

He finally pulls away from where’s he’s tucked into Hank’s neck to give him a heated kiss instead, and Hank groans, really feeling his own dick straining now.

“Just wait,” Connor says, all warm and languid now that he’s over the edge. “I can do even better.”

Hank doesn’t have time to ask questions about that before Connor’s messing with his jeans, popping the button easy like a pro, and then his hands are on Hank’s cock.

“Jesus… _fuck_ ,” Hank groans, and helplessly shoves his hips into Connor’s grip.

Having seen to Connor’s needs, Hank’s own burst back into existence, and his brain goes all fuzzy with static at every touch.

“How’s this?” Connor asks, voice so low Hank can barely hear it, but it doesn’t matter, he’s far too busy just trying to stay on his goddamn feet.

“Good… good,” he mumbles, rutting into Connor’s grip without much finesse. He wants to come so badly right now that he almost manages to forget that this doesn’t usually work for him.

He’s never been able to figure out what it is, but he needs to _fuck_ to come. Needs to sink into something and _thrust_ , his ass and his core clenching, full-bodied and all-consuming. It’s another reason he’s been considered too intense by some previous partners, because he can’t just have a quick jerk-off or a hot quickie somewhere. He needs more than that, always has.

“Hmm,” Connor says, still giving him a nice, firm fist to push into as he clearly takes stock of the situation. He’s too fucking smart, Hank’s gonna have to keep on his goddamn toes with this man. “I think we can do better.”

He takes a step back and lets go of Hank long enough for him to get a few brain cells together and realize that Connor is stepping out of his pants and turning around.

“Nuh uh,” Hank protests, because he’s not doing this, no matter how crazy eager and flexible Connor seems to be. It’s just not going to end well.

“Shush, just let me take care of it,” Connor says, and Hank wishes he wasn’t so far gone in his need, and able to protest more. But god, he wants to _come_. “Like this,” Connor says, backing up against Hank with legs slightly spread, guiding his cock down and… oh.

Connor is a _genius_.

“Oh… _shiiit_ ,” Hank whimpers as Connor’s thighs close, damp and tight around Hank’s cock. “Fuck, Connor, baby, _fuck_.”

“Like this,” Connor says again, folding Hank’s arms around him. “Take me.”

It’s as if he has a direct line to Hank’s goddamn _balls_ , because it’s like lightning shooting through his groin, and he yanks Connor in as hard as he can, fucking into the tight clench of his strong thighs with heady abandon.

Spots dance behind his eyelids with every thrust, and he mindlessly shoves into it, hard enough they both lose their balance a little, and Hank spins them without thinking until Connor’s front is plastered up against the wall.

“ _Yes_ ,” Connor says, pushing back against Hank as he ruts so hard something else falls to the floor. “Yes, do it,” Connor sighs, bracing against the wall and giving Hank plenty of the leverage he needs.

“Fuck… Connor, fuck, _fuck!_ ”

“Yes. Yes, Hank. Come on.”

“Fu-uck,” Hank moans, feeling it build up in his gut and below his cock, and he _pounds_ into it, chasing it, building it…

“Jeeeeesus Christ,” he groans, breath bellowing out of him as he comes and comes, definitely making a complete mess of Connor, and god damn if that thought doesn’t squeeze one more weak spurt out of him.

“Good boy,” Connor says, patting Hank’s arm around his middle, and Hank bursts out laughing, because _why the fuck_ does that _do it for him_?


	8. Chapter 8

Connor’s hallways is a mess. Several pictures are on the floor, a couple of coats came off the rack, and somehow they managed to fuck up a light fixture. Hank repairs it in the early hours of the morning, naked, with Connor appreciating the view from the living room couch, coffee in hand.

Considering Connor had to clean a few stains off his wallpaper, Hank feels it’s only fair, and he hums to himself as he unscrews what little of the fixture is still attached to the wall.

It’s amazing what getting properly laid does to your mood.

“You’re good at that,” Connor says, sounding exactly like someone who’s been doing what he’s been doing for a significant portion of the night. Makes Hank feel half his age, frankly.

“Worked in construction for about twenty years. I’ve put in a few screws in my time.”

“I’m willing to bet you wore a little more clothing, then.”

Hank shrugs. “There’ve been a few exceptions.”

“Well now I’m curious,” Connor says into his coffee, never taking his eyes off Hank.

“I’ll be sure to tell you sometime.”

“Maybe on the trip you promised me.”

Hank pauses. “I did, didn’t I? Sure. Where do you wanna go?”

Connor puts down his coffee, and quietly comes over to plaster himself up against Hank’s back as he works.

“I don’t care. I just want more time with you.”

“Aw jeez, you make me sound like such a nice person to spend time with. I appreciate that.”

“You are,” Connor says, lips against Hank’s skin. “But if you feel that’s a misunderstanding of your character, then I’m perfectly happy just making it a sex vacation.”

Hank reaches back to gently slap Connor’s nearest buttock. “You’re fucking shameless.”

“Never claimed I wasn’t.”

“Smartass. Go get dressed, we gotta leave in like an hour.”

Connor lets out a little happy hum against Hank’s back. “Clothes can wait.”

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’ll be trying for if we don’t cover up soon. But you’re shit outta luck, you wrung me dry, kiddo.”

“Don’t you start, either,” Connor grumbles. “How old do you think I am?”

Hank shrugs, leaning forward to hold the light against the wall as he screws it in place. “I dunno. Mid- to late twenties?”

“Try thirty-eight.”

“Bullshit,” Hank says around a snort, but has to eat crow a minute late when Connor produces his driver’s license. “Well, _shit_. What kinda black market skincare crap do you use?”

“It’s called genetics.”

“Hell of a drug,” Hank mutters, busying himself with putting away tools while turning that information over in his head. “Then… don’t take this the wrong way, but… why are you a PA?” he asks, finally turning around to face Connor again. “You could be whatever you want in this business. You got the skills, the ambition, hell – _the looks_ – to move on to whatever career you could ever dream of.”

Connor rolls his eyes, and tucks his license back into his wallet, just as unashamedly naked as Hank, and not a single wrinkle in sight. It’s unfair, is what it is.

“Because I love being a PA. In case you haven’t noticed, I love butting my nose into everything. And this job lets me do that.”

“Huh. Well. Can’t argue with that,” Hank says, finally deciding there’s no putting it off anymore, and finds his clothes. By some miracle they’re perfectly wearable, despite spending a rather eventful night in a crumpled heap on the floor.

“Wait, hang on, though,” he says, half way through buttoning his nice date jeans. “If you’re thirty-eight, how fucking old is Markus?”

“Twenty-six.” Connor chose to put his shirt on first, and his bare legs under his button-down are very distracting.

“Well. Okay. But why does Jessie seem to think you’re the same age? Jessie’s not also secretly pushing forty, right?”

Connor chuckles and picks out a pair of slacks among what looks like twenty near-identical pairs. It’s some kind of opposites attracts thing, clearly, because Hank can never seem to satisfy his need for ever louder shirts. “Jessie has this thing about assuming a lot about people. I don’t know if you noticed how they immediately decided we’d have a whirlwind romance.”

“We kinda did, though,” Hank points out and tucks his undershirt in.

“Even a stopped clock...” Connor says, and that’s a good point.

Hank sits down on Connor’s very messy and slightly gross bed that they haven’t cared enough about yet, and shakes out his shirt to put it on. “So. Guess the moral of the story is: don’t trust an unreliable narrator. Or maybe I should just stop listening to Jessie so much.”

“Yes, and yes,” Connor says, looking pretty much ready to go, and good enough to eat. God, Hank almost wishes he was at an age where he could get it up again, even at the risk of being very, _very_ late to work.

They make it to set in decent enough time, and Hank is actually feeling good about things now. He feels significantly less like a dirty old man than he did the night before, the shower in Connor’s apartment had _great_ water pressure, and goddamn it he’s just feeling extremely mellow and well-laid.

Once again an intern or extra or whatever spots them approaching, hand in hand, and darts inside to report the sighting, and frankly Hank would like to know just how boring everyone’s lives are since he and Connor are considered this interesting.

They step through the front door, and all of Hank’s good feelings are immediately drowned in embarrassment, because _holy shit_. That undefined thing he’d been worried about happening the other day? Well it’s happening now.

There’s _cake_. And streamers. And banners. And they all say _Congratz On The Sex_.

Hank will _quit his goddamn job_. He will quit his job and move to Mallorca or some shit, anything to escape this feeling of being some kind of punchline.

Though, he does have to admit it’s touching, in a weird way, that everybody makes such a fuss about them. _And_ the cake is delicious.

And Connor is beaming like the goddamn sun through the whole thing, so Hank bites down on his mortification, eats some goddamn cake, and lets dozens of delighted queer people shake his hand and pat his shoulder.

The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that this is maybe a _thing_ in queer communities. Being allowed to freely and openly acknowledge and even celebrate love outside of the mainstream is probably something of a privilege Hank was never aware of.

Hank’s been married. He’s been the groom, he’s been pre-wedding hazed and paraded around drunk off his ass with signs and banners proclaiming his nuptials. And he’s never had to worry one single bit about being arrested or ostracized for it.

But from the look on Connor’s face, his glowing, _joyous_ face… maybe he _has_.

God, Hank wants to _change that_.

He probably can’t. But he can at the very least be _part_ of the change. Starting with playing a queer dude on screen in a believable and relatable way.

“So!” he calls out, putting down his empty plate. “Anyone wanna shoot a gay movie?”

The roof damn near lifts from how hard everyone cheers, and as they all scatter and go back to work, Connor looks at Hank as if he’s the very center of the universe, and squeezes his hand hard enough that it hurts.

“How about you, honey? Wanna shoot a gay movie with with me?” Hank asks quietly, and Connor’s smile is a _revelation_ of happiness.

“Yes. I do.”

\- - -

“ _So. How do you feel. You ready?” Paul asks._

_Al takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “If I say no, will you think I’m an asshole?”_

“ _No. I’ll think you’re human. And if it really is too much for you-”_

“ _Shit, no. I’m in too deep now. Nowhere to go but forward,” Al says, shaking out his arms and visibly steeling himself._

_Paul smiles at him, amused. “Alright then. Tally ho?”_

“ _Tally-fucking-ho,” Al says, pulling Paul in for a quick and hard kiss before leaving what turns out to be a train station, emerging into the middle of a pride parade._

_The camera zooms out to show Al is wearing a purple t-shirt that says “ **Yes, I’m Bi. No, I don’t care what you fucking think**.” _

_Paul is in a white button down with rainbow suspenders, and puts on a stylish black bowler hat with a rainbow ribbon around it._

_They share a loving look and then join the march._

End.


	9. Anyone Wanna Do A Gay Interview?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well. There's a press tour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, this fic was done, I SWEAR IT WAS. But then Hank had something to say, and this happened.

“So! Hank Anderson! Everybody’s favorite TV villain!” the chipper host says, her dress so sparkly Hank almost prefers to look straight at the spotlight instead of at her. But this press tour is the most important he’s ever done. Not only because it’s his first as a leading man, but also just because of how important everything related to that movie ended up being to him.

“Going from long-running TV roles to big screen, only to hop onto the indie scene! Sounds like it’s been a busy few years for you, huh?”

“Yeah. But that’s what I get for waiting until my forties to go for my dream job,” Hank says with a shrug, and a few people in the audience laugh.

The interviewer beams at him, but it’s so fake it makes Hank teeth hurt. “That is true! A big move to make so late in life!”

He decides not to let the dig at his age get to him, and just smiles and nods.

“But after three major roles in A-list movies, what made you step back down to an indie project?”

“Well, Kaighleigh,” Hank says, putting his most polite and agreeable smile. “First of all, I don’t see it as stepping down. For me it was a step up. My first actual leading role! Not that I didn’t enjoy my previous roles, of course. But being the biggest name on the poster? That was the dream. Ever since I was a kid. And now I have that.” He turns his smile on the audience. “It’s never too late, folks!”

Another scattered laugh. He hopes they’ll keep laughing, because considering the network this is on, there’s only one way this interview can go. And the best he can hope for is that he leaves with the audience mostly on his side.

Other than Connor, of course, who’s off to the side, silently supporting him.

“Well, sure, but come on, you’ve been on screen with people like Everett Cross and Carol Swansson! You can’t tell me that wasn’t more exciting!”

Hank shrugs. “They’re just people, when it comes right down to it. We had fun, sure, but it got a little stale just playing one bad guy after another.”

“ _Stale!?_ ” Kaighleigh shrieks. “You got to kiss Swansson!”

“I got to pretend to _rape_ her,” Hank says, dropping the smile. “No matter how friendly you are on set that’s never a fun day at work.”

He can see on her face that she’s not happy with that response, and he steels himself for what he knows is coming. “So was that why you took such a… _drastic_ leap away from the big screen?”

“I wouldn’t call it _drastic_. I just wanted to focus on different roles. You know, show my range.”

“I guess being naked in bed with another man is _one_ way to show your range.”

There it is. The tone says it all. She’s expecting him to back-peddle, to distance himself from it. Oh _boy_ is she gonna be disappointed.

“Yeah, definitely. Jake,” he turns to the audience, “- my co-star, Jake Allbrecht- he’s a great guy to work with. I learned a lot.”

“I’ll bet,” she says in an undertone, and Hank has to glance in Connor’s direction to find strength. “But, come on, let’s hear it. The sex scene. That must have been weird, right?”

“All sex scenes are weird. I dunno about you, but having naked makeout sessions with someone who’s your friend at best and distant co-worker at worst, while surrounded by cameras and crew? Not _my_ kink, that’s for sure.”

A bigger laugh from the crowd. Hank’s starting to think he might be able to pull this off.

“But two straight men having to pretend-”

“Hey, now you’re just making assumptions.”

Dead silence falls. Hank keeps the most calm and pleasant face possible while waiting for the interviewer to get back on track.

“I’m… sorry, have we been misinformed? Our sources list you as heterosexual,” she says coldly, instantly and obviously more hostile. But the audience is leaning forwards in their seats, eager for some juicy gossip. And Hank is gonna give them what they want.

“Well, here’s the thing.” He ignores the host, and addresses the audience. “Sometimes you go into something, thinking you know yourself. And then you come out on the other side with a boyfriend.”

Chattering breaks out immediately, and the audience wranglers desperately waggle their “ **SHH** ” signs until things calm down.

“A boyfriend?!” Kaighleigh says, mouth unattractively hanging open. Hank hopes a million screenshots of her outrage will go viral.

“Yep. Wanna meet him?” Without waiting for an answer, he gets up and walks off the stage to where Connor’s waiting. He makes a good show of being more hesitant than he usually is, making it seem less planned than it is, but when he does finally step into the light he smiles and waves at the audience as Hank pulls him by the hand.

“Oh, uh, we, uh, we only have the one chair-” Kaighleigh stutters, but Hank waves her off.

“It’s fine, we can deal, right, honey?” he asks, Connor, who just shrugs and sits on Hank’s thigh without hesitation.

This is the part where Hank and Connor take over this interview.

“So yeah, I went into this movie thinking I was straight, but then I fell in love with one of the PA’s and the rest is history,” he tells the host, and then turns back to the audience. “ _Tally Ho_ is in theaters now! Don’t miss it! You’ll fall in love!”

He offers the audience a wink, and pulls Connor down for a quick peck on the lips, and the crowd goes bananas to the point where they’re forced to cut the interview short.

As soon as the cameras and microphones are off, Kaighleigh turns to them, sour as a lemon. “I don’t appreciate having my interview hijacked like this!”

“And _I_ don’t appreciate the implication that being a man and kissing another man is somehow gross and weird,” Hank says with a stern finger at her. “You got me on here because you thought I was either a homophobic prick, or a straight man forced to touch dicks for money against his will. Frankly, I think you deserve what you get.”

“You tell ‘em, baby,” Connor mutters, and Hank lovingly pats his thigh. The audience can’t hear the exchange, but they sure can sneakily film everything on the phones they aren’t supposed to have, and Hank can’t _wait_ to see what the internet makes of them.

One thing’s for sure. The movie’s gonna get a _lot_ more attention now.

\- - -  
  
Later:

“ _Big Dick Baddie Hank Anderson Bags Twink In R-Rated Gay Movie!”_ Connor reads, and Hank snorts.

“Man, are _they_ gonna be disappointed when they realize it’s me and another _old dude_.”

Connor rolls his eyes. “Did you miss the part with the big dick? How do they even know that?”

“It’s not _that_ big.”

“That’s not the point!”

It’s Hank’s turn to roll his eyes. “Google my nudes.”

“Wait, what?!”

“About five years ago I did a stage thing. Mostly for fun. It wasn’t supposed to be filmed, but you know.”

Connor’s eyes look like they’re gonna roll right out of his head. “Are you telling me you’ve done full frontal nudity? And I – your _boyfriend_ – am forced to find out via a _Buzzfeed headline?!_ ”

Hank lets his head fall back onto the pillow. “What difference does it make? You’ve seen it all, already.”

“And so has the whole world, apparently!” Connor says, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff, and Hank has to bite down on a grin, because, _christ_ , he’s adorable.

Rolling over to lean over Connor on an elbow, Hank smiles softly at him. “Well now. Are you telling me you’re jealous?”

“Yes.”

Hank has no choice but to kiss his adorable pout now. “But only _you_ get the hands-on experience,” he purrs, and savors how Connor melts into the kiss.

“That’s right. And it had better stay that way,” Connor says, and tackles Hank into the other side of the bed instead.

That’s fine with Hank.

Perfectly, _perfectly_ fine.

End.


End file.
